


heaven wasn’t made for me

by honeypuke



Category: Zero Day (2003)
Genre: #GiveAndreAndCalTheLoveTheyDeserve2020, Eating Disorders, Fluff and Angst, I Tried, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, I’m so sorry, Kissing, Lowercase, M/M, Not Good, Self-Indulgent, at all, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:20:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24600727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeypuke/pseuds/honeypuke
Summary: cal is an angel & andre luvs himorcal has an ed & andre tries his best (he really does)
Relationships: Calvin Gabriel & Andre Kriegman, Calvin Gabriel/Andre Kriegman
Comments: 6
Kudos: 24





	heaven wasn’t made for me

**Author's Note:**

> title is from in the shadow of the valley of death by marilyn manson
> 
> ♡
> 
> this is so bad lmao i’m so sorry but there aren’t enough fics for them :(

andre thinks a lot. 

he does. he thinks and thinks and thinks until he can’t anymore, until all he could do is slip into some little thought-limbo paradise. it’s nice there, sweet and somber, swirled with cal. 

an early june midnight finds andre and cal on the couch in andre’s basement, _reservoir dogs_ on the tv, cal’s head in andre’s lap like it belongs there. a scene so familiar you could swear it was deja vu, something that had been recorded and put on repeat for as long as time stretches on. 

andre’s in his happy place, cal’s hair like star magnolias beneath his fingers, snow-pure and pretty. andre can’t see much in the darkness, but the tv gives enough light to show cal and that’s all that ever mattered to andre anyway. 

andre’s more fascinated in the way cal’s porcelain skin turns neon-hued with each change of frame. he’s seen the movie enough, and he’s seen cal even more, but he could never get tired of the boy in his lap. he’s not much for the sappy shit, has never been the type to give heart-shaped valentine’s day cards or flowers or candies, but there’s just something about cal that turns andre’s mind into a blend of want and love. 

it’s bliss.

andre stops playing with cal’s hair to reach for the remote and cal turns over, gives andre a smile and looks at him like he hung the moon and all the stars. andre grins something lazy, turns the volume down, waits for cal to say something. 

“hi.” cal’s still smiling, the hint of a tease, and it tells andre all he needs to know. it’s terrible ( _and super fucking gay _), really, how the flutter of dandelion seed eyelashes could turn andre inside out, but cal’s got him wrapped around his finger without having to try.__

____

____

“hey, man.” he moves his other arm to lay across cal’s stomach, slides his hand up to his shirt (that he stole from andre, which was becoming more and more common) and drifts his fingers over cal’s jutting ribs. “fuck, you’re cold.” 

cal lowers his eyes, looks sheepish. “sorry.” 

he’s got nothing to be sorry for. it was just out of compulsion, a habit that andre’s trying to help him break. andre found out early on in their relationship (whatever the fuck it was) that reassurance was something that cal needed, even if he tried to pretend like he didn’t. 

“it’s fine, cal. don’t be sorry.” his fingers pause mid-rib, linger where he knows there’s a bruise, violet and tender and budding. “are you hungry?” 

yes. “no.” 

“you sure?” 

no. “yeah, ‘m sure.” he looks back up to andre and he could tell that cal was torn between breaking down and saving face. still so pretty, so anxious, timid and andre’s. 

andre sighs, knows that the last thing cal ate was an orange about eleven hours ago, but he doesn’t push. _baby steps _, he reminds himself, tries to swallow down his aggravation.__

____

____

he goes to speak but cal pushes himself up, looks at him all owl-eyed and pink-cheeked, leans in and presses his lips to his. 

typical. andre’s not complaining though. 

it doesn’t last long enough, but the look on cal’s face is more than compensation, more than andre could ever ask for. too pretty for a boy, a girl, anybody, anything, everything. it’s un-fucking-real. 

“that’s cheating.” cal peers up at him through his lashes, chin against his bony shoulder. cal doesn’t say anything back, just smiles one of those kittenish, coy smiles. 

andre spends the rest of the night kissing the baby scars lining cal’s thighs, extra gentle with the newer ones, skin raised raw and red. 

and maybe, just _maybe _, they share a whispered _i love you _, tucked away in the confines of andre’s room like newborn kittens nursing, safe and warm under their mother.____

_____ _

_____ _

♡

it’s hard to ignore the two cherry knuckles on cal’s right hand, pale skin stretched taut over bone. andre tries, but whenever he sees cal’s hands, it fills him with something he can’t explain, makes him feel sick to his stomach. 

♡

cal is perpetually cold. andre’s used to it by now, used to how cal’ll steal his hoodies whenever he gets the chance, how he’ll always curl up to him, knows that cal likes it whenever he’ll take his little hand-shaped ice cubes into his own. 

cal had told him once that he liked andre’s hoodies more because they were bigger, warmer, felt like andre. 

it was, dare andre say, cute. they hang off of him, slip off of one of his shoulders, bruised and bare for the whole world ( _okay, maybe just andre _) to see.__

____

____

andre’s his whole world anyway. 

♡

cal always looks guilty when he does it, comes out of the bathroom with those sad eyes and puffy cheeks, looks like an apology personified. 

it’s a ritual that follows the rare occasion of cal eating anything that isn’t safe enough for him. 

on particularly bad days, andre’ll calm him down, hold him and let him cry, listen to cal’s fruitless prayers of _please _and broken sobs of _i’m sorry _.____

_____ _

_____ _

_____ _

_____ _

they’ve been having a lot of bad days lately. 

♡

the worst times are when cal doesn’t try to make himself sick, when he finally eats something that looks like an almost reasonable meal, when he can’t keep it down. 

andre’ll sit on the ledge of the tub and rub his back, hold those pretty curls out of his face, tell him he’s going to be okay over and over again like he’s trying to speak it into truth. 

when it seems like cal’s done, they’ll sit against the tub with cal’s head on andre’s shoulder for a while, just in case he feels sick again even if he’s puked up everything in his itty-bitty body. 

andre doesn’t sleep those nights. 

♡

“cal, honey, have you been eating enough? you look sick.” 

they’re in andre’s kitchen, cal sitting on the island and andre leaning against it, a bowl of cereal in his hands. cal’s eyes go wide, pupils a black sun in cloudless skies, words caught in his throat. 

“he’s fine, mom. stomach bug.” her face turns sympathetic and andre gives her a look. she takes the hint and pats cal’s back, gives him her well-wishes and leaves. 

“thanks. i panicked.” he presses a quick kiss to andre’s cheek, giggles when andre turns and catches his lips before he could pull away. 

when they pull apart, andre chews his bottom lip like he’s thinking about something. cal raises an eyebrow at him, because they’ve been on the same wavelength since they’ve met, and andre grins.

“i love you, cal.” 

andre’s never seen cal blush so pink. 

“i love you too, so much.” 

it’s barely a moment of eye contact before andre puts his bowl on the counter and slots himself between cal’s legs, places his hands on each side of cal. another giggle falls from cal’s mouth and he wraps his arms around andre’s neck, tilts his head all coquettish. 

“i really fucking love you, cal.” 

“yeah, i know. it’s kinda gay.” andre shakes his head, can’t help but laugh. “show me.” 

“show you?” it’s andre’s turn to raise an eyebrow. he smirks when cal nods, could tell that the shyness on cal’s face is genuine. “come on.” 

cal reluctantly unwraps his arms from their spot, but all of that reluctance melts away when he grabs andre’s hand and they start towards his room, goofy smiles on both of their faces. 

calvin gabriel’s the closest to heaven andre’ll ever be, and he’s perfectly fine with that. 

♡


End file.
